Incandescent
by Rozozzy
Summary: For that brief second, Lisa had felt her whole body light up like fire. That brief second changed everything.
1. White Spaghetti Straps

The first time Lisa kisses a girl, it's at Sherri and Terri's thirteenth birthday party.

Lisa is in a matching set of red long-sleeved, button-up pajamas, opting for a conservative look. Allison's look is similar except her colors aren't muted, her design is aesthetically pleasing, and the material is made of silk and not thinly stitched together after constant wear and tear. (Always better, always one step ahead).

Sherri and Terri don short shorts and tank tops, not hesitating to flaunt their bare arms and legs. Becky wears a turquoise graphic tee and orange gym shorts, simple and plain as she is and as she prefers. Alex is decked out in a black onesie with neon purple zebra stripes, because apparently onesies are making a comeback this year. Janey sports baby blue fleece bottoms and white spaghetti straps, with the left strap hanging loosely and exposing her bare shoulder.

Lisa has been careful, not staring for too long, but just long enough to let her gaze linger at Janey's smooth skin before forcing herself to pry her eyes away once more. She wonders if anyone has noticed by now, not the loose strap, but her constant flitting back and forth from Janey's shoulder to a random corner of the room. Lisa clutches her hands into tiny fists and drops her gaze to the floor. She sucks in a sharp breath and holds it close to her chest before letting the air trickle out through her tightened lips. Has Janey always looked this good?

The walls of Sherri and Terri's bedroom are tinted pastel pink and lined with lavender curtains, threaded in swirls and detailed with tiny patterns. All the girls lie sprawled on a circular, cheetah print rug, legs splayed to the side and fingers brushing against the soft edges of the fabric. Sherri places a glass bottle in the middle, empty except for a few drops of red wine. She examines the faces of every girl in the room and sits back, smiling.

"The game is truth or dare," she says. "Whoever the bottle lands on is the victim. Afterwards, they get to spin. Any questions?"

Becky raises her hand. "Uh… does the spinner or the victim get to pick if it's a truth or dare?"

Sherri rolls her eyes. "This isn't elementary school anymore," she says. "Obviously the spinner gets to pick."

Terri chimes in, "Makes it more fun not knowing what you're gonna get, doesn't it?"

"I guess," Becky says, swallowing a heavy gulp. Her nervous eyes flicker around the room, which is coated in thick silence and expressionless faces. Sherri breaks the tension with an abrupt, fake cough and a haughty toss of her hair.

"Since me and Terri are the birthday girls, I've decided that Terri gets the first spin."

Terri grins over at her sister, and Sherri nudges her with her elbow. Terri eagerly grasps the bottle and gives it a whirl, and it spins vigorously before decelerating. It slows to a halt, the neck of the bottle pointing at its target.

Janey.

Everyone gasps in anticipation but inwardly sighs in relief. Janey simply tilts her head and flashes an amused look at Terri, awaiting the challenge that's in store. Terri ponders while drumming her fingertips on the carpet. A sly grin creeps up on Terri's face, and she claps her hands together, face glowing.

"I dare youuu…" Terri begins, letting the last vowel drag out to keep everyone in suspense, "to kiss someone in this room. On the _lips._ " Terri squeals in delight and Sherri joins her in a fit of giggles. Janey glances around the circle of girls, jaw dropped. All of the other girls in the room stare back at Janey in frozen terror. Janey bites her lips and frowns.

"C'mon Janey," Sherri prods. "Don't be such a party pooper."

"Yeah Janey," Terri scoffs. "Just do the dare. It's just a little kiss. What's the harm?"

Janey crosses her arms and shoots the twins a nasty glare. "I'm not a party pooper!" she snaps. She huffs and begins to survey the room. Allison looks off to the side while Becky has her eyes pointed down, and Alex takes a moment to whip out the camera on her cellphone. Lisa is the only one who doesn't avoid Janey's gaze. Their eyes meet. Lisa's hands begin to sweat and her heart flutters, right before plummeting into the depths her stomach. This is, after all, a cruel, twisted joke.

"Fine," Janey says in begrudging defeat. "I pick Lisa."

The way the words drip out of her mouth in such disgust causes Lisa to flush red with shame. Janey stands up, takes a few steps, and plops in front of Lisa with a labored sigh. Lisa swallows as Janey leans forward, eyes squeezed shut. Lisa supposes she should close her eyes too, and so she does, chest thumping in anticipation. Janey's lips brush against hers in a gentle, swift motion, and then the kiss is over.

All of the girls in the room gasp and shriek and laugh.

"Eww!" says Becky, who covers her mouth with her face.

"You did it!" screams Sherri.

Terri snorts, "You actually kissed _Lisa!_ "

"Wow," is all that leaves the back of Allison's throat.

"O-M-G, I am sooo posting this photo on my blog," Alex brags, mouth parted wide in amusement.

Janey wipes her mouth and gags. "Yuck," she says. "Don't ever make me do that again."

Janey's lips—even though Lisa had gotten only a taste—had been soft and warm and sweet, unlike Janey herself. The kiss itself had given Lisa butterflies she hadn't felt in a long time, or perhaps ever. Lisa would never be with Janey; one-sided, physical attraction coupled with Janey being, well, _Janey_ is not an appealing recipe for a romance. But Lisa cannot deny what she had felt in that moment, in spite of the circumstances.

For that brief second, Lisa had felt her whole body light up like fire. That brief second changed everything.

Janey takes the bottle and gives it another spin.


	2. Three-Inch Stilettos

"Lise," Bart says with narrowed eyes and crossed arms, "please tell me you're not going to the party in _that_ outfit."

Bart's standing under her bedroom doorway, his shoulders leaning against the frame. Lisa slaps on a quick smudge of bubblegum pink lip gloss before whipping her neck around to shoot Bart a glare. She's wearing her pearls and her white polo and her dark blue jeans. Bart's in a dark red button-up and black, faux leather pants. Lisa leans back in her chair and raises an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she asks in a dry tone.

Bart rolls his eyes and steps into her room, shaking his head. "Lisa," he says, "the coolest people in Springfield High are gonna be at this party. You're not going in a damn polo shirt!" He swings open her closet and starts fiddling through her clothes, flipping through one item after the next. "Lame. Lame. Lame. _Bleh._ " He takes out a shirt with a unicorn printed on it. "What are you, in middle school?"

Lisa groans. "That's an old shirt. I've been meaning to give that to Maggie."

"Riiiight." Bart hums and grunts and sighs as he continues to sort through her closet. "Ah," he finally says. Bart pulls out a short, teal dress and throws it at Lisa, who fumbles to catch it in her grasp. "I've never seen you wear that before. Is it new?"

Lisa shrugs. "Eh. I wore it when the band went to nationals last year," she says. She stares at the dress with wistful eyes. "Haven't worn it since."

"Well, you're wearing it now," Bart says. He scans her from head to toe and frowns. "And ditch the flats. Go for some heels, or wedges at the _least_."

Lisa clenches her fingers around the dress and releases a heavy sigh. "I don't know if I can do this," she admits, voice hushed. "Parties are for the socially adept, the conventionally attractive, and the cultural elite. I'm just another nobody trying to squeeze into a world I'll never know." Lisa closes her eyes and listens as Bart's footsteps grow louder with every step. She feels his hand reach onto her shoulder.

"Lise," Bart says his reassuring voice, "as long as you look good and don't get so trashed that you make an ass out of yourself, no one is gonna care. There's gonna be a ton of people at this party. It doesn't really matter what you do just as long as you're _there,_ having a good time. So enjoy yourself! Drink. Dance. Make out with someone. It'll be fun."

Lisa glances up, the corners of her mouth nudging into a small smile. "I still don't know if I'm cut out for this scene," she says. "An unsocial butterfly emerging from her cocoon. I'll stick out like Dad at an all-you-can-eat buffet."

Bart grins. "I don't think anyone can be that bad," he says, and they both snort with laughter.

* * *

Mom drops them off at the Bowlarama. The party is only a couple of blocks away, making it the most ideal pretense.

"Aren't the two of you a little overdressed for a bowling party?" she asks in a skeptical tone. She squints her eyes and shoots each of them a look.

"Dress code, m'lady," Bart says. "The theme is semi-formal. Fire and ice. Hence my red and Lisa's teal." The lie rolls off his tongue so smoothly and effortlessly that a sly smile tugs at Lisa's mouth. Impressive that after years of deception, he can still depict himself with sincerity. (Well, perhaps it is because of that deception that it seems sincere). Mom remains unconvinced, her eyes flickering back and forth from Bart to Lisa.

"Well… since _Lisa_ is with you, you must be telling the truth," she says slowly, reassuring herself. She gathers herself for a moment and then blows each of them kisses. "Goodbye sweeties! Have a good time!"

After her car disappears outside their periphery, Bart punches Lisa's arm. "Way to go, Lise!" he says. "It's a good thing one of us is good at lying and the other one has credibility."

"The perfect crime," Lisa drolls.

The walk is about five minutes. Lisa can already feel the bass reverberating to the beat of her heart as the two of them approach the house. There's people in front and people inside and people hanging out in the back. Lisa inhales a long breath, chest twisting with every second. Bart catches sight of a couple of his friends and nudges Lisa with his elbow.

"Gonna hang with my buds," he tells her. "You'll be cool on your own?"

"Uh… yeah!" Lisa says, attempting to mask the hesitancy in her tone. She feigns her best smile. Bart deserves to be free and not burdened by her presence. "Totally. Go with your friends. I'll text you if I need anything."

Bart cocks his head to the side and seems reluctant, but gives her a nod and a smile. "All right then!" he says. He jogs to his friends and glances back at her once last time, waving. Lisa gives him a small wave back, and then Bart disappears in a frenzy of booze and all of its underage consumers. Lisa inches her way to the front door, which rests ajar, and she pushes it open.

It's not as horribly overcrowded as she had anticipated, much to her relief. The stereo is far too loud and the songs are not anywhere near her own musical preferences, but after a brief survey of the area, it seems quite okay. People are doing their own thing. Standing. Drinking. Dancing. Sitting. Talking. There's no pressure to do anything. Okay. Good. She can get behind that. Lisa sighs. She only recognizes faces; she doesn't actually _know_ anyone here.

She spots a cooler filled with cold drinks in the far corner of the room. As Lisa sifts her way through a horde of dancing people, she feels a tap on her shoulder. She pivots and finds herself eye to eye with a blonde in a tight, strapless blue dress and her hair thrown up in a perfect, messy bun. This girl flashes the widest grin and holds up a red solo cup as a sign of greeting. Lisa's eyes widen.

"Alex!"

"Lisa!" Alex pulls Lisa into a one-armed hug. A part of her drink splashes out of the cup and drips onto the carpet. "Whoops!" Alex giggles. "Love your dress, by the way."

"Thanks!" Lisa says, volume raised so that her voice doesn't get drowned out by the music. She can feel the knots in her stomach ease up with the sight of a familiar face. "You look great! I must admit, I'm surprised you recognized me in this crowd."

Alex takes a sip of her drink and laughs. "Shut up! Of course I would! I know those pearls and that hair anywhere." In the mass of bodies and drinks, someone collides with Alex. She stumbles. Lisa reacts quickly enough to catch her before she falls. In the midst of it, Alex's drink falls out of her grip, alcoholic splashing onto her dress. "Dammit! I _just_ bought this." She releases sad sigh as Lisa helps her to her feet. "Thanks. Guess this is what I get for wanting to rock my three-inch stilettos. Bummer."

"Why don't we get you to the kitchen and clean you up?" Lisa suggests, offering a sympathetic smile.

"Would you? That'd be great."

They slip out of the main party room and dip into the kitchen. A few guests are scattered about, mingling and sharing drinks. Alex plops onto an empty wooden chair while Lisa snags a roll of paper towels near the kitchen sink. She hands Alex a couple of sheets. Alex yanks up her dress and wipes the top of her chest, and Lisa assists by removing any remaining traces of alcohol on her dress. Dark spots and smudges and streaks are left behind, but it's dry at least.

Alex cranes her neck down to glimpse at herself. "Yikes," she says. She leans back in her chair. "I bet I look like a hot mess, don't I?" Lisa opens her mouth to conjure up a response, but before any words pass through her lips, Alex interjects. "Wait. Don't answer that. I'll just go in the bathroom and see for myself. Come with?"

"Uh…"

Before Lisa has a moment to think, Alex is on her feet, their hands intertwined. Lisa bears a nervous smile as Alex strings her along. The bathroom door is shut. Alex shakes the handle furiously. Locked. She pounds her fist against the door. No answer. Alex dips down onto her knees and bends over, peeking through the golden slit beneath the door.

"O-M-G," Alex gasps. "That dude is knocked _out_. Better try the one upstairs."

"Eh… shouldn't we tell someone?" Lisa asks, face twisted in dismay.

Alex rolls her eyes and tugs at Lisa's wrist. " _Hello,_ Lisa. It'll be fine. This shit happens _all_ the time. Don't get your panties in a knot."

Lisa shoots Alex a dumbfounded look, but Alex either doesn't notice or doesn't care. She's already ascending up the stairs. Lisa pauses and glances back at the downstairs bathroom before trudging up after her. She hears the creak of door and the flip of a light switch, and she follows the sound to a double-sink bathroom.

Alex is staring at herself in the mirror, hands on her hips and lips puckered together in a sultry smile. Lisa stops in her tracks and hangs around outside as Alex applies dark red lipstick. Alex flicks her gaze to Lisa and ushers her to come in with a gesture of her hand.

Lisa enters the bathroom and leans against the counter, unsure of what she should do. She finds herself watching Alex undo her messy bun, blonde hair falling down in sinuous waves. Alex sprays a few squirts of Juicy Couture perfume, an alluring scent that draws Lisa towards Alex without her being conscious of her own movements. Lisa swallows. Color and heat rush to her cheeks as Alex gives her a sideways glance.

"You ever kiss a girl, Lisa?"

Lisa blinks. She hadn't expected that. "Well… kind of."

"Kind of?" Alex says, lolling her head. "Either you have or you haven't."

"It was a dare," Lisa mumbles, arms hanging as her hands fiddle with the sides of her dress. "Remember? Sherri and Terri's birthday party? Janey?"

Alex lifts an eyebrow in amusement. She tilts up her chin and gives a quick flip of her hair before crossing her arms, a thin smirk plastered on her face. "Ahh, yeah. I remember now. Still have that photo, you know."

Lisa can feel her entire being unravel and unravel until nothing but her bare soul is exposed, open and vulnerable and full of nervous sweat. Alex uses the tip of her foot to slide the bathroom door closed. She reaches over to lock it, eyes never pulling away from Lisa, not even for a second.

Lisa's mind is running circles within her brain. "Uh… Alex? What are you—"

"Wanna make out?"

Lisa can feel Bart's words biting down on her neck like a mother cat guiding her wandering young by the scruff, his advice ringing like a whistle throughout her mind. Alex takes a step forward, filling in the space between them so that only a newspaper could close the gap.

It's Lisa who makes the first move.

* * *

Back at the Bowlarama, Lisa is in the women's bathroom with a fistful of damp paper towels as she scrubs away dark red smears all over her neck and face. Bart's just outside the door wearing the stupidest grin, and she mentally swears to kick his ass if any of this leaves the two of them. But she knows it won't.

She can still catch the scent of her perfume, and the feel of her hands in her hair and on her waist, and she can still taste her tongue sliding into her mouth. Her heart's still pumping a mile a minute, her thoughts still racing and yet going completely numb, her legs still weak in the knees. She can still feel the heat, the electricity, resonating within her like shockwaves throughout her body.

And the reciprocity had been liberating, without a doubt, but Lisa knows that it hadn't been any less of a game than that dare with Janey. It wasn't serious, but they both got what they wanted out of each other, and that's enough. It was a fleeting escapade, a mere thrill at a random party to be a throwaway anecdote some years from now. Lisa can't stop herself from wondering if that's all she will ever be, someone's toy, a cheap fling, stuck with those types of girls who are only in it for the "experience" and not looking for something more. Not with her.

Mom rolls up in her canyonero and wears that sweet smile of hers, and she drives them home.


	3. Silver Tiara

Prom isn't some magical fairytale like the intricately crafted fantasies that Lisa has been dreaming up for all these years. It has more of lackluster, B-movie vibes, with tacky decorations strewn about and store-bought snacks and Dollar Tree tablecloths. The gym is still a gym, and the ill attempt at gussying it up only enhances the fact that it is just that. A gym. Her dress—the only element of prom she could control—isn't made of galaxies or fireflies or city lights, but rather the best floor length, matte orange she could afford at Goodwill. She is not a princess nor the belle of the ball, her Cinderella story nonexistent.

There is no charming prince to swoop her off her feet. There is only Milhouse and his flowers, Milhouse and his thickly gelled hair, Milhouse and his burgundy, hand-me-down tuxedo. Lisa doesn't even know why she agreed to go with him in the first place; most likely it is society's heteronormative standards that weigh down on her, pressuring her into saying yes to the first and only male who flocks at her feet, lest she be deemed a dateless social outcast. And also, pity. Rejection stings.

She's been lingering by the punch bowl for twelve minutes, because for some goddamn reason, the DJ has been playing that amount of time's worth of romantic drivel. She only has one slow dance in her, and Milhouse cashed that in within the first thirty minutes of arrival. Milhouse waits for her at their table, and she pretends to be interested in the desserts nearby.

Guilt claws at the back of her throat and gnaws away at her conscience. She wishes she came alone, or not at all. It's like having a puppy follow you around, except the puppy is the size of an adolescent boy and isn't cute. And Milhouse doesn't deserve this, to be strung along for appearances and so when asked, Lisa could say that yes, she _did_ have a date to prom. Will that even matter ten or twenty years down the line, at some shoddy high school reunion? Garnering the approval of her peers grows less and less appealing with each passing moment.

Lisa groans. She should really stop basing her choices on such trivial principles. How conformist.

She brings two paper cups filled with punch to the table. Milhouse is sitting and wiggling his eyebrows at her in a poor attempt at appearing suave. Lisa puts on a faltering smile and slides a cup of punch his way. He scoots his chair as close to hers as he can, and Lisa squirms in her seat when his arm rests on her shoulder.

"Maybe afterwards, you and I can take a trip to the Springfield sign," Milhouse says, tone suggestive.

Lisa gulps and resists the urge to gag in front of him. "Oh, I don't want to be out too late," Lisa says with an anxious giggle. "I'd rather just go home right after the dance."

"Aw… come on, Lisa," Milhouse insists, pouting. "It'll only be for a little bit."

"I'd rather not."

"Oh," Milhouse says, sulking in his chair. "Okay… b-but if you change your mind, let me know!"

She doesn't comment on that. Now that she thinks of it, they could've just gone as friends. _Explicitly_ as friends. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Always in retrospect, Lisa. Way to go. She blows out a long sigh, wondering when this miserable night will be over. Time seems to progress slower with every song, and with every flirtatious glance Milhouse sends her way, Lisa can feel her stomach churn.

After ten minutes of evading Milhouse's advances and awkward hand holding, Lisa needs to get out. She gets out her seat in one abrupt, swift motion, causing Milhouse to glimpse at her with confused eyes.

"Where you goin'?" he asks, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Bathroom," Lisa lies, and she curses herself for resorting to such cheap fixes.

It's pure coincidence that the bathroom is right next to the exit. Lisa heads inside and sits on a toilet for a couple of minutes, just so that she can say that she actually went. Afterwards, she peeks out the door to see if anyone's watching her. When she sees Milhouse simply staring at his plastic cup, head facing down, she slips out the back door, the fresh night air rushing against her skin and running through her hair.

She stretches out her arms and smiles. It feels great to get away.

Lisa takes a few steps forward and notices the shape of a girl in a glistening, purple ball gown sitting near the side of the road. Her lavender hair is styled in a bob cut, topped off with a silver tiara. It must be Sherri; Terri has always adored her long, beautiful hair, and Sherri has always been the first to venture out and try something different, something to make her stand apart from her sister. Lisa wonders if she should just leave her be, but curiosity gets the best of her.

"Sherri?" Lisa says as she approaches from behind. "What are you doing out here?"

Sherri glances over her shoulder and greets Lisa with a worn-out smile. "Oh," she says. "Hi, Lisa." Sherri turns her head so that she's facing the open road once more. Lisa takes a seat right beside her on the sidewalk. A car whizzes by. "I just needed a place to think. It's so loud and tiring in there. Out here, it's nice and quiet." Sherri releases a drawn out sigh and then cocks her head at Lisa. "I'm guessing you came out here to ditch Milhouse?"

Lisa rubs her neck and flashes a sheepish smile. "Well, you wouldn't be wrong." Sherri just snickers, breaking the tension between them that Lisa hadn't known was there. Lisa laughs too, and the two of them exchange grins. "What about you?" Lisa asks. "I'm sure your prom date is wondering where you are. Uh… by the way, who is your prom date? I don't think I saw you with him."

"Don't have one," Sherri says, causing Lisa's eyes to widen. Sherri looks at her with nonchalance and shrugs her shoulders. "Didn't really feel like being tied down," she explains, smirking as Lisa wilts with shame. "Well, that's _part_ of it." Lisa watches Sherri intently, and Sherri shakes her head. "You know, I'm not really into boys."

Lisa gives a subtle nod, not saying a single word.

"I thought I was once," Sherri continues, "because that's how things were _._ Girls got crushes on boys. Girls dated boys. Girls married boys. I felt like I _had_ to like boys. But turns out, I don't."

"I know what you mean," Lisa says. "Years of unrelenting heteronormativity is the reason why I have stacks of old Corey posters sitting in a corner of my room. Only recently have I been coming to terms with my affinity for the female gender."

"Gosh, I remember Corey," Sherri says, chuckling. "Now I get it. Why you went with Milhouse to prom." She places her hand over Lisa's and gives it a gentle squeeze. "You know, it really doesn't matter if you have a date to prom. People like to make a big deal about it, but no one really cares. You could've just gone alone. Like me."

Lisa rubs the back of her neck and returns the hand squeeze, causing a light smile to appear on Sherri's lips. "Yeah," she concurs, "I think sometimes I care too much about fitting in."

Sherri shrugs. "We all do."

They stay like this for a few minutes, sitting in silence as cars hum across the quiet street. Crickets fill the silence in the background, and the music inside the building is muffled by the walls of the gymnasium. Sherri yawns and rests her head on Lisa's shoulder, closing her eyes and sighing softly.

"I should probably get back to Milhouse," Lisa eventually says in reluctance. "He is my date, after all."

"Don't wanna leave him hanging for too long," Sherri adds, nodding in sympathy.

Lisa stands up and Sherri does too, gazing at each other idly. Sherri leans forward and tucks a loose strand of Lisa's hair behind her ears, right before placing her lips on Lisa's cheek for a brief second. Lisa raises her hand to touch the side of her face.

Sherri winks. "Because we both know Milhouse isn't getting any tonight," she says, and Lisa snorts with laughter. Lisa begins making her way back to the gym as Sherri watches her, not moving except to wave her hand in a gesture of farewell.

Lisa pauses and gives Sherri one last look right before pushing open the glass doors and entering the gym.


	4. Denim Shorts

The summer before Lisa's senior year, her family revisits Little Pwagmattasquarmsettport, and it's during that summer that Lisa falls in love for the first time. It's the summer of soul searching, the summer of piecing back together broken dreams, the summer of redefining everything that Lisa thought she knew about herself and of the world.

Ned Flanders had offered for them to stay at his beach house one last time, just before he puts it back on the market to sell. Dad had insisted that Flanders clean their gutters and pull the weeds sprouting through the cracks in the cement in their backyard, in exchange for staying at his beach house. Lisa could never understand how that deal is fair, and she supposes it isn't. Bart had always said that Flanders is a pushover whenever it comes to Dad, or anyone really, and to just accept the odd reality of the situation.

An overwhelming sense of deja vu hits her, because Bart brings Milhouse and Lisa brings no one, but this time, Lisa makes sure to pack her clothes and her swimsuit. Her taste in clothing may still be cheap, but it's not as dorky as it was when she was eight years old. This time, she cringes at the thought of acting like someone she's not. This time, she's not attempting to discard her old life, but seeking to refresh it whilst keeping her foundations intact. This time, she says _screw it,_ and takes her microscope too.

There's something romantic about the notion of summer magic working to fill an emotional void, to breathe adventure and spontaneity into an otherwise monotonous life, and for a person to grasp onto that quick fix which disguises itself as what has been missing all along, but never is.

Lisa knows this vacation isn't going to solve whatever problems she has. Reinventing yourself is for the college-bound, who go off to university some two hundred miles away from home, where nobody knows your name and you leave that high school past behind without looking back. That kind of fresh start is more permanent; it takes more work, but this is as temporary as any rub-on tattoo.

Bart and Milhouse horse around at the beach near the cabin, and Lisa's sure Milhouse already lost his glasses. Mom helps Maggie build a sandcastle, and Dad is off buying "legal fireworks" somewhere in the area. Lisa had given them a heads up that she would be exploring the downtown area, and she brings her copy of Jane Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_ to read at a local coffee shop.

At the Sunrise Cafe, Lisa orders a caramel macchiato, taking tiny sips here and there as she flips through the pages of her book. She has read through _Pride and Prejudice_ at least three times before, but there's always something new to find every time she revisits one of her favorite stories.

"You know," she hears someone say, "the hipster coffee shop vibe suits you well."

Lisa glances up and sees a familiar face sitting across from her, her right arm resting on the edge of the table while the rest of her body hangs back. Her platinum blonde hair is tied back in a long ponytail. Her torso is covered in a baggy long sleeve with a seafoam green gradient, and her lower half is clothed in light, denim shorts with a ripped fringe.

Erin. That summer spent with her was a lifetime ago, and that friendship bracelet given to her is still kept at home in a shoebox of Lisa's most treasured mementos.

The corners of Lisa's mouth carve into a warm smile, and she closes her book and rests it on the table. "I envision myself here with nothing more than a laptop and my imagination, composing poems to be read during the weaker moments of the human spirit." Erin tilts her head, amused. "Was that too nerdy for you?" Lisa asks, and they both chuckle.

"Nah, Lise," Erin says. "I enjoyed that. It's very poetic. Very you."

Lisa can feel a blush rising on her cheeks. "It's been ages, Erin," she says. "I can't believe you still remember me."

Erin laughs. "Give me some credit," she says. Her eyes are soft and kind and peaceful, just like her. "I may not be as smart as you, but I have a decent memory." Erin points to Lisa's macchiato, to which Lisa nods. She begins to take little sips as Lisa tries to process this chance encounter.

"I didn't expect to run into you after so many years," Lisa says. She bears a grin stretching from ear to ear, face lighting up like constellations on a transparent night. Lisa closes her eyes for a brief moment and leans back, sighing. "It feels as if I have been transported back to the past," she says. "That period in which we befriended each other now stands still in this little infinity of time."

Erin's eyes are as wide as her smile. She scoots forward in her chair, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin against her knuckles. "It's really cool hearing you talk about things," she says. "You've got a nice way with words." Erin hums and stares at the cup of coffee before realigning her gaze onto Lisa. "Why don't we amp up the nostalgia factor?" she suggests. "I have an idea of something we could do, for old time's sake."

Lisa beams. "Ooh, I'd love that!" She can feel her heart accelerate with every systolic pump. "What did you have in mind?"

"Let's head down to the beach. Get a bonfire going. Roast some marshmallows."

Lisa swallows, her head swimming. "It's a… date?" she asks meekly.

Erin winks. "It's a date."

* * *

Lisa chews on the bottom of her lip as she paces around the room. Bart sits on the couch and looks deep in thought, his fist pressed against his chin.

"So I asked her if it's a date," Lisa blubbers out, "and she even said it was a date. But…"

Bart quirks an eyebrow. "But?"

"But you know girls and their tendency to overlook flirtatious undertones!" Lisa says, throwing her arms up in frustration. She scratches her head. "She probably meant 'it's a date' in a platonic way, not a romantic, 'I would like to kiss you and hold your hand as we lie on our backs and watch the stars' kind of way!" Lisa groans and drops to her knees, sulking as she droops her head.

"Relaaaax," Bart says. He hops to his feet and gives Lisa a firm slap on the back. "Why don't you just kiss her and find out for yourself?"

Lisa's eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. "Are you _nuts_?"

Bart shrugs and plops back onto the couch, sprawling his arms so that he takes up the entire space. "Well, what are the odds you're gonna run into her again?" he says. "If she likes you, then you guys will probably keep in contact. If she thinks you're nothin' but a weirdo, then you'll never see her after that. It's not rocket science."

Lisa blinks and slowly raises her head to meet Bart's gaze. "Wow, Bart. I've gotta hand it to you. That's probably the best advice I've ever heard you give."

Bart bobs his head and then shoots her a finger gun. "My pleasure, dear ol' sis of mine."

* * *

The bonfire in front of them flickers, flames licking the air as Erin adds more sticks to the pile. Heat radiates from the center, providing much needed warmth as dusk settles in. Lisa watches Erin's face glow against the light as they allow their marshmallows to hover over the flames and toast into a dark brown. Their thighs are touching as they sit on a log, eating their marshmallows and kneading sand in between their toes.

"You're different now," Erin says, breaking the silence. "Same, but different."

Lisa shrugs. "Well, finding yourself is a part of growing up," she says. "I've outgrown many interests and gained new ones, but I've also matured in some ways."

"I can tell," Erin says, and she gives a warm smile. "You no longer feel like you need to hide yourself from me."

Lisa smiles back, her heart tingling in her chest. "Yeah. Do you feel like you've grown?"

Erin nods. "Of course. I'm more aware of how my actions affect other people. And I'm becoming less selfish. When you're a kid, you don't always think about other people. Now, I feel like I understand what it means to be a good person."

"Most definitely," Lisa says. "Looking back, there are so many aspects of my younger self that I shake my head at now. But it's been quite humbling to reflect on my past."

"And now that we're older, it's like, woah! Now I actually have to figure out what I want to _do_ with my life." Erin sighs. "Growing up is kinda rad, but it also kinda sucks."

Lisa nods. "I certainly wouldn't want to be a kid again," she says. "But there's something to be missed about childhood innocence. I've always known that the world itself is beautiful and yet humanity plagues it, but it doesn't really hit you until you grow up and realize it for yourself."

"People don't all suck," Erin says. "I think there's just as much good in this world; it's just a little harder to find. But when you find it, it makes you believe in people again." Her eyes fall onto Lisa's face, and Lisa swears that Erin is able to hear her heart hammer away from the inside.

Lisa takes a deep breath. Panic swirls inside her head as she gently nudges her fingers into the spaces between Erin's. Erin reciprocates the gesture, her fingers seamlessly intertwining with Lisa's. An eager glimpse. A soft smile. A twitch of lips. Lisa's gaze falls onto Erin, eyes getting lost in eyes, completely mesmerized. She leans in and notices Erin leaning in too, and they have an awkward exchange of lips. But they try again, and they find their rhythm. Lisa grows fervent, desiring more and more of Erin's lips and Erin's hands and the scent of her beach washed hair.

After the passion settles into warm contentment, Lisa can't stop herself from grinning ear to ear, and neither can Erin. Erin scoops Lisa within her arms, and Lisa rests her head against Erin's shoulder, sighing loudly.

* * *

Their next date is at the carnival. Mom had insisted that Bart and Milhouse tag along, and Lisa couldn't really present an argument against it. Bart, being the supportive older brother that he is, has been on Official Milhouse Watch for the past hour, which consists of keeping Milhouse occupied and ensuring that he doesn't get within five hundred feet of Lisa and Erin (for his sake and for hers).

" _Ferris_ wheel?" Lisa asks, skeptical as Erin nods and strums Lisa along by her hand.

"Cheesy, I know," Erin says, "but it's nice. And it won't make you barf after eating that corn dog, like that other ferris wheel that flips you upside down."

"Poor Bart," Lisa comments, and she shakes her head in dismay at the all too recent and visceral memory.

The line is short and the ferris wheel is small, so it doesn't take long for the two of them to be seated. They sit hand in hand as they loop forward, seeing the entire carnival begin to light up as dusk transitions into night. After a minute or two, the ferris wheel lurches to a halt, their seat gently rocking back and forth as they settle at the top.

"Unbelievable," Lisa says, mouth slightly ajar. "At the very top. I feel like I'm living in a rom com."

Erin chuckles. "Maybe you are in a rom com," she tells her. "But you gotta admit, this is pretty cool."

Lisa closes her eyes for a few seconds, soaking in every inch of this moment, this atmosphere, this miniscule slice of spacetime that belongs to her and Erin. "Yeah, it is nice up here," Lisa finally says. She gives Erin's hand a soft squeeze. "Getting stuck up here is fine by me, if it's with you."

Erin squeezes back and then gives Lisa a playful shove. "Now who's being cheesy?" she teases, and Lisa just laughs and sticks out her tongue.

* * *

They're at the beach again, this time during midday, bare feet pressing against wet sand as the water rolls up to their ankles and then recedes. Lisa has her arms enveloped around Erin's waist as she stands behind her, the two of them looking into the distant horizon, where the ocean meets sky and where sunbeams glisten in the water.

"I always love listening to the waves," Erin says, sighing in contentment. "It's so calming."

Lisa buries her face into Erin's back and closes her eyes, focusing on the birds and the wind and the sea. "My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean," she says. "Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?" Lisa exhales and glances up at Erin, watching as the wind causes loose strands of her hair to glide in all directions. "David Mitchell, _Cloud Atlas_."

Erin gives her the lightest smile. "We make more of a difference than we realize. It's so crazy to think how one action can have a huge effect on the future. Like what was that thing? The butterfly effect?"

Lisa nods. "Yeah. Everything that has happened is a collective sum of all the moving parts on this tiny rock that orbits its star. It's rather romantic, I must say."

Erin turns around to cup Lisa's cheek and plants a tiny kiss on her forehead. "Definitely," Erin says, and Lisa shuts her eyes for a little while, losing herself to the moment.

* * *

The end of the week closes the chapter on Little Pwagmattasquarmsettport. Who knows if Lisa will ever set her sights again on its beaches and piers. This week with Erin has been the stuff daydreams are made of, with simple joys and quiet nights and the prospect of romance blossoming in the summer winds. They exchange cell phone numbers and Skype usernames and one last kiss, the promise of continuing what they started here still fresh, still alive. It's the first time Lisa's love life has a chance, a _real_ chance, at something concrete.

The end of the month—a month of texting at every opportunity, a month of late night, hour-long phone calls, a month of video chatting and sending each other pictures of cats—solidifies the feelings Lisa has been aware of for quite some time. Feelings of butterflies and obsession, of wanting Erin to be only hers and for her to be only Erin's, but also knowing that she will let go if Erin wishes it, because nothing is more important to Lisa than Erin's happiness.

* * *

"Erin, I've never told anyone this before." Lisa exhales a long sigh and gives herself a second to regain her composure. She looks straight into the camera on her laptop, so that Erin may see her eyes lock with hers, even if Lisa can't see Erin's. "I love you."

Lisa's eyes quickly dart to the screen to capture Erin's reaction. The video quality isn't the best because Bart is playing video games online and Maggie is streaming movies on her phone. But seeing that smile of hers, even in 240p, is enough to make Lisa's heart melt ten times over.

"Really?" Erin says, not giving Lisa the response she had hoped for. "You never told anyone in your family that you loved them?"

Lisa pouts, almost appalled. "In a romantic way!"

Erin chuckles, her eyes gleaming even with the low quality reception. "I know, I'm joking," she says. Her eyes move across the screen and then fall into Lisa's line of sight, falling and falling into place. "I love you too, Lisa," Erin says, her tone shifting into sincerity, and in that moment, Lisa keeps falling.

* * *

Love is hard work, and relationships are more complex than she could have ever imagined, full of selfishness and selflessness and unraveling insecurities, full of peaks and valleys, full emotional breakdowns and unveiling things about yourself you never knew existed. But with every low point Lisa's reached, love has made her rise ten times higher. Love is worth it. It is.

* * *

 _You're all I look forward to. You're the only person I can't get enough of, the only person who doesn't drain my social energy. The more time I spend with you, the more I understand what those depressing, alternative rock songs mean when they say love is akin to a drug. All the time in the universe could never be enough time with you. Before you, I thought true love was just a fabrication of Hollywood movies and daytime television, and that monogamy was a failed social construct. You make me believe in that kind of love which reaches beyond the limits of space of time, the love of soulmates._

Lisa rereads the text three times and smiles, filled with nothing except pure adoration. She presses send.

* * *

Eight months into their relationship, the honeymoon phase long gone, reality starts to quake the foundations of what started out so solid. Graduation is dipping around the corner for Lisa and Erin. They've only met up twice since summer, and now they can't turn a blind eye to the obvious. Erin will be going north, and Lisa will be heading south. Away from each other, in opposite directions.

It's ten at night. Lisa's been on the phone with Erin for two hours, desperate to hold the remnants of their relationship together, desperate to keep what they have from disintegrating in the palms of her hands. She's been fighting and losing, trying to hold onto what's already beyond her grasp. And she knows it too; she has had her hunch for awhile. She has noticed the decrease in the frequency of Erin's replies, the growing indifference. Lisa can't deny that their relationship has been cracking open at its seams, but that won't stop her from attempting to sew it back together.

"I'm sorry," Erin says, "I'm just being honest with you. Maintaining a long distance relationship is too hard for me. I'd rather cut it off now than drag it on longer that it needs."

There's a lump in Lisa's throat, and hot tears trickle down her face as snot clogs up her sinuses. Her entire body quivers as dread overtakes her, muffled sobs coming out in short gulps of air. This can't be happening. It _can't_. She can't lose Erin, her light, her love, the only person whom Lisa can be herself around, the only person who can wash away Lisa's pain and sorrow with a simple smile, the only person whom Lisa trusts completely.

"Don't you love me?" Lisa chokes out.

"Lisa…"

She can feel herself retch, and she forces herself to swallow the bile that wants to sputter out.

"We can make this work," and Lisa knows her words are futile, but she tries anyway. "Don't you want this? Don't you want us?"

There is static on the other end. She can hear the spring of a mattress, a tired sigh escaping Erin's lips. "We're taking different directions with our lives. We'll meet new people. It's easier this way."

"If our love is strong enough—"

"It's not," Erin whispers. There's a stifled sob on the other end, and Lisa's heart plummets. "I can't do this anymore."

Lisa's entire world shatters. She is numb and bitter and wants to stop caring. She feels nothing and everything all at once.

The only person Lisa could ever want in this cold, callous world doesn't want her back, doesn't love her enough to want to try. There is no else Lisa wants or could care to want; Erin is the only one for Lisa and Lisa just doesn't want anyone except Erin. There is only Erin. It has always been Erin. And now, it is no one.

"If that's what you want," Lisa whispers, and she knows that this is it. This is the end. There is nothing for her now, nothing except this emptiness in her gut and this sinking feeling in her chest and this heavy weight bearing down on her like stacked bricks. Nothing matters when the one person you let yourself become vulnerable to makes you feel like a fool, when your best friend now becomes yet another acquaintance, yet another aching memory.

"Goodbye, Lisa."

Nothing matters anymore.

"Goodbye, Erin."

Nothing matters.

The line goes dead. Lisa collapses face first onto her bed, and she sobs for hours.


	5. Black Cloche Hat

Her whole life has been leading up to this moment, the moment where she packs her entire life into cardboard boxes and ships it to another state, hours and miles away from this decaying cesspool known as Springfield. This is what she's been waiting for, what she was born for. She will finally break free from the shackles of this god-forsaken town.

The University of Rockheights is more affordable and a little closer to home, but it's just far enough where she can make a name beyond the ghosts of her former self. The Ivy Leagues are still within her grasp, and they will be waiting for her after she gets that baccalaureate.

She majors in International Relations because she is ready to take on the world and ready to change it. She minors in Jazz because her saxophone is the only thing that keeps her sane, and she'll be damned if she ever stops learning and growing and playing. Her dorm room is a double and not a triple, and her roommate is a pre-med Biology major who is barely in the room at all. Two weeks in and she knows that this isn't high school anymore, but she's Lisa Simpson and she's going to excel in whatever she does (barring physical activity).

The library is a favorite of hers, unsurprisingly. Every Tuesday and Thursday, she likes to get a coffee on the first floor and then head to the fifth, a quiet floor that also contains individual cubicles.

The fifth floor is packed this week, so by the time Lisa is finished with classes for the day, all of the cubicles are taken. She heads to a table that has two other people and sets up her workspace with her laptop and notebook. She sits down with her headphones plugged into her ears, drowning out the rest of the world with Beethoven's Für Elise.

Four hours later, Lisa decides to head back to her room. She enters an elevator, empty and alone, and is about to close the doors when a shrill voice calls out.

"Wait!"

Lisa presses a button, and the doors remain open. A young woman shuffles her way inside. She wears dark skinny jeans and a beige, wool sweater. Perched atop her head is a black cloche hat, and her shoulder-length auburn hair is dyed red at the tips. She wears a tired smile and reflects gratefulness in her eyes.

"Thank you," she says, and she cocks her head. "I can't believe it. _Lisa?_ "

The doors close and Lisa punches for the first floor. She inspects the girl with closer scrutiny. "Allison!" Lisa gasps, her voice almost squeaking. They both exchange a brief embrace as the elevator descends. "I didn't know you were also attending UOR," Lisa says in an amused tone.

Allison nods. "Yeah! This place has an awesome Jazz program," she says. "And it's a reasonable distance from home, so I can come back and visit once a month."

The door slides open, and the two of them step out as a couple of people dip in. Lisa raises her head in curiosity. "You're also minoring in Jazz?" she asks, her heart stuttering with both excitement and anxiety. They walk together, passing rows of bookshelves and sections of desktop computers.

"Nah," Allison says, "it's my major."

Of course.

It isn't enough for Lisa to travel hundreds of miles away from home; something in her past will always catch up to her. She can never step out of the shadow of her younger, more beautiful, more accomplished rival, one who has conquered and will conquer more than Lisa could ever dare to dream. Allison can major in Jazz because she has the talent and money and connections to do so. And, let's face it. She also has the guts. As much as Lisa wants to actively shape society, her inner desire beckons her to live the life of a Jazz musician, to die young in a flash of danger and vibrant fire. But she clings to her safety net, her life wavering within the confines of her own limitations.

"Oh," is all Lisa says, as she tries to maintain an upbeat tone. "How cool."

So much for making a real name for herself.

"Yeah! It's weird that I haven't seen you in any of my classes," Allison points out.

Lisa gives a sheepish smile. "Well, I haven't started taking any Jazz classes this semester."

"Oh!" Allison almost jumps in surprise. "What's your major?"

Lisa rubs the back of her neck, feeling her face redden with shame she shouldn't be feeling, but feels anyway. "International Relations."

"Wow!" Allison says, her mouth spreading wide. "That's great, Lisa. I know you'll go far with that degree."

 _That_ degree.

Lisa forces an awkward smile. "Thanks."

The two of them head outside the library, the sky radiating oranges and pinks and purples. They stop in their tracks, and Allison whips out her phone from the back of her pants.

"I need to get going," she says. "But it was really nice seeing you! Let's catch up later. Here, give me your cell. My number's changed." Allison hands Lisa her phone, and Lisa can't suppress a nervous chuckle before reluctantly entering her phone number. She hands Allison her phone, and Allison looks at Lisa with a warm smile. "Cool. I'll text you!"

Allison waves goodbye as she disappears against a rush of college students. Lisa waves back, and she takes a moment to breathe in and breathe out. There's a lot going on inside of her, a mix of emotions at seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place, and Lisa isn't sure if she should be happy or disappointed.

Lisa's phone vibrates. A text. It reads, _Hey, it's Allison! Maybe we can get lunch tomorrow?_

Well that was fast. Lisa begins tapping her fingers onto the screen. _Sure. Let's meet at noon in front of the Betty Beaver statue._

Another notification. _Sounds great! See you then! ;)_

Lisa shoves her phone in her bag and wonders what the hell she's getting herself into.

* * *

She can hear Bart's disapproval on the other end of the phone call, in the way he speaks and in the way he chooses not to speak. Lisa is curled up on the foot of her bed and wrapped in a fleece throw, pressing her phone against her ear and anticipating what he'll say next.

"I dunno, Lise," he says, and she can hear his lips smacking while he talks. He's probably chewing gum. "Aren't you the one always telling me I should date people who are my equal?"

The manner in which the words so precisely drip off his tongue is blunt yet razor sharp, and Lisa can feel an indignant puff of breath rising from her lungs like smoke. "Are you implying Allison is better than me?" Lisa can't shake the defensiveness in her tone.

Bart's lips smack louder this time, and Lisa wonders if he's purposefully doing this to tick her off. "You've got me all wrong, sis," he says, voice as cool and calm as ever. "I sure as hell don't see it that way. But I think _you_ might." Lisa's bottom lip twitches in the slightest, and she inhales a thin breath, not saying a word. "Just think it might not be such a hot idea. Especially if you're gonna always compare yourself to her like you did in high school."

"I'm not in high school anymore," Lisa says, more to herself than to Bart. She can sense Bart's shoulders raising into a shrug, even though she can't see him.

Bart merely gives her a drawn out hum. "Whatever you say, Lise."

There is static for moment, an uncomfortable silence filling the distance between them.

"By the way," Lisa says, in a feeble attempt to shift tones, "lemme know when you get the Japanese candy I sent you."

Bart's lips smack and smack and smack, and he _knows_ he's being obnoxious; he _has_ to. "Eating it right now," he says.

Lisa rolls her eyes and stifles a much needed groan. "I should've known. Be sure to give some to Maggie."

Bart gives her a muffled response, probably due to a mouthful of candy. They hang up, and Lisa falls back onto her mattress, letting her arms drape over the edges and dangle freely. Lisa mutters incoherent sounds under her breath and lifts up her arms to cross them over her chest. She huffs.

What does _Bart_ know?

Lisa rolls to her side and closes her eyes. She tries to forget that Allison had been the Valedictorian to her Salutatorian, that Allison is the one pursuing a career in Jazz and not her, but it looms over her like wisps of fog on a murky winter morning. It wires itself into her brain, looming above her as she pulls the blanket over her head and tries her best to sleep.

* * *

They dine at a small deli that is about a mile off campus. Lisa orders a broccoli and cheddar soup bread bowl and Allison orders mac and cheese. As much as Lisa's curiosity bites at her to pry into Allison's life as an emerging Jazz major, she avoids the topic altogether and instead dives into intellectual subjects that she suspects Allison might be into. For all the time they had spent together in high school, Lisa hardly knows Allison at all, which is unfortunate. Under the right circumstances, a solid friendship could have blossomed throughout those years.

Lisa can tell. As they talk and laugh and reconnect, the minutes transitioning into hours, she can see it. In Allison's eyes, in the way she touches her hair, in her tone of voice, in her posture. Lisa can see it so clearly as she had seen it in herself when she had first started dating Erin, a mirror image of someone so helplessly infatuated with the person right in front of them. And Lisa knows. She knows she can take advantage of that, knowing this, knowing her.

Lisa cracks a witty joke. Allison chuckles, eyes pointing to her food as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and swirls her mac and cheese with a spoon. Lisa notices the lightest shade of pink tinting Allison's rosy cheeks. She slips her hand over Allison's from underneath the table, eliciting a delighted reaction.

Lisa wants this, wants her, but for all the wrong reasons. For once, Allison is wrapped around her finger. For once, Lisa holds all the power. For once, Lisa wins.

* * *

A few weeks into their relationship, and for the most part, everything is seamless, connecting all the right dots and hitting all the right points. Lisa hadn't expected to be this swept up in Allison, but she is, and it has been a pleasant surprise between sorting it out in her mind and transforming it into reality. Allison has it all—beautiful looks, sharp intellect, and an unwavering passion for the work that she does and what she believes in.

It's a delicate scale tipping between admiration and envy. It's a scale that Lisa is desperately trying to tip in both of their favors.

* * *

The Rockheights Museum of Fine Art is hosting a week-long exhibition featuring the progression of Western art throughout history via careful recreations of well-known masterpieces. Lisa comments, with disdain, on the obvious Eurocentrism and absence of any cultural variation, but Allison pleads with those puppy eyes of hers to _check it out just for an hour or two._ So here they are, hand in hand, observing a rendering of Édouard Manet's _Olympia_ mounted on cream colored walls and tucked behind velvet robes.

"Isn't it fascinating," Allison begins, "how a reinterpretation of Titian's _Venus of Urbino_ could attain just as much artistic recognition, if not more, than the work that inspired it?"

Lisa shrugs, eyes flicking towards Allison to meet her gaze. "Every artist extracts inspiration from something that currently exists or has existed." She nudges her elbow into Allison's side. "Perhaps Titian was inspired by the _Venus of Willendorf._ "

Allison snorts. "That seems implausible."

Lisa giggles in return. "Yeah, probably. Hmm, I wonder if I were to create a reinterpretation of _Olympia_ using elbow macaroni and glue, that some five hundred years from now it will be hailed as masterpiece of our time." Allison stifles a chuckle, muffled sounds reaching from the back of her throat. "Although, Manet _was_ an emerging artist during the transitional period into Impressionism, which is partially why his work is so revered."

"I prefer _Monet_ ," Allison says with a faux haughty glance. She sticks up her nose but can't hide the smile creeping onto her face.

Lisa tilts her head and lifts a corner of her brow. "Me too," she deadpans. The two of them burst into quiet laughter, laughter that is shared between the two of them, only them, a little moment fixed within the here and now that marks this singular point in time.

* * *

Lisa soon learns that in university, stress is omnipresent, a looming force that follows her as if it is her own shadow. High school had been easy, save for a couple of honors classes that consumed her time with tedious busywork. No, this is a different beast to be reckoned with, one that Lisa doesn't take lightly. But she sets time for herself, in spite of herself, on Friday nights. Partly because Allison says it's good for her, and partly because she's right.

Her roommate always goes home on the weekend, so Lisa and Allison take the floor for themselves. They huddle together in a nest of fleece blankets and lie surrounded in a barricade of pillows, a sea of warmth. Glowing flashes of light emitting from a tiny laptop illuminate the otherwise dark room as Lisa and Allison browse through Netflix's anime titles.

"Ooh!" Allison squeals, the corners of her mouth lifting into an eager grin. "Let's watch _Madoka Magica_! I've heard great things about it. It's supposed to be a deconstruction of the magical girl genre. And it's only twelve episodes."

"Maybe," Lisa says. She hums as she scrolls down the list. "What about _Mushishi_?" she suggests, eyes widening with excitement. "It's beautiful, atmospheric, and explores a wide range of profound themes. And every episode is contained within itself, so we can watch the whole series at any pace that suits us. Might I add that it too is critically acclaimed."

Allison pouts. "You already saw it, though!"

Lisa pouts back and raises an eyebrow. "So? I really enjoyed it, and I would _love_ to watch it again."

"I want to watch something we _both_ haven't seen yet," Allison says, pleading with her soft eyes. She grasps Lisa's hand and runs circles around the top with her thumb. Lisa steals a peek at Allison through the corner of her eyes, and she can't stop herself from giving into that sweet look, that manipulative, yearning look that Lisa wishes she could pull off, but she's not cute enough to make it work. Allison is.

Lisa sighs and then gives Allison a gentle hand squeeze. "All right. _Madoka Magica_ it is."

Allison practically leaps into Lisa's arms in pure joy. "Yay! Thank you thank you thank you!"

They lie together underneath the sheets, heads pressed against each other as the first episode unfolds on the screen. Lisa and Allison quickly find themselves wide awake and engrossed as one episode transitions into the next, the entire story blending together as one cohesive narrative. As the finale draws to a close, the two of them finally fall into a slumber at a time when some people wake up to start their day.

* * *

It's the middle of the day in the middle of the week, and Lisa lies beside Allison in her bed, legs tangled in each other as The Cranberries echo softly from her portable speaker. She has her arm hooked around Allison's waist; Allison's head nestles in the bend between Lisa's chest and shoulder, eyes shut all the way and hair spilling everywhere like a beautiful mess. It's simple and peaceful. It almost makes Lisa feel whole.

Lisa wonders if this is what had been missing—these moments of physical closeness and uninterrupted togetherness—that caused Erin to eventually pull back from their relationship. She wonders, in spite of herself, how different the paths she is walking right now and the ones she'll be walking in the future would be if Erin was here, if Erin never left. She wonders if this had been the dealbreaker, the one thing that had determined whether or not Lisa and Erin would have a happily ever after.

And her heart aches in this state of not knowing and never knowing and getting wrapped up in hypotheticals. And she had missed the feeling of belonging, the touch of intimacy that she now has with Allison. But now, Lisa can see with far too much clarity that she misses Erin more than simply missing the feeling of being with someone.

But it's not just that. No. It's the surmounting jealousy Lisa can't stop herself from feeling every time Allison succeeds in an aspect of life at which Lisa fails; it's the thin line between love and hate for the dreams that Lisa has in which Allison fulfills for herself. It's not Lisa's past relationship that's holding her back; if only it was as simple as that. It's Lisa's present—her present demons and her present flaws—that's preventing her from fully embracing her current relationship, her current, amazing partner.

Lisa looks at Allison, whose eyes are fluttering, a dreamy smile plastered on her face, chest rising and falling in gentle motions. Lisa inhales an anxious breath and seals her thoughts in a locked box within the furthest reaches of her soul.

* * *

Late night walks with just the two of them are some of Lisa's favorite things. There's a small garden with a gazebo that rests in the center of campus, a perfect place to sit down and enjoy the simply tranquility of the dark hours. Allison and Lisa stand in between a row of tulips, Allison clinging to Lisa's arm as they glance up at the sky and all the stars that contain it.

"I got signed to a studio!" Allison blurts out, face lighting up. "I've been working on my own album in secret. It's half finished. I cannot wait to show you what I have composed so far. I've dedicated a couple of songs to you. You've inspired me so much, Lisa. I love you."

Lisa's heart sinks. It sinks because she knows she should be happy for Allison; she's her _goddamn girlfriend_ for crying out loud, but she isn't. It sinks because it hits her, _really_ hits her, how inferior she is and how Allison is leagues and leagues ahead of her, and Lisa can only try, in vain, to straggle behind like a lost child. And Allison is so happy, and she deserves whatever bits of happiness come her way, but Lisa cannot share that happiness with her—not like this—and she hates herself for being unable to.

"Lisa?" Allison's voice is slow, soft, and her eyes reflect concern.

Lisa turns her back so Allison can't see the disappointment in her face, in herself, and so she can't see her ugly, ugly tears. She wishes she could be there for Allison, through _good_ times and not just the bad ones, but it's dawning on her all at once how it can never be, will never be. Her competitive nature is stitched into the very fabric of her soul, a mental block that she cannot overcome no matter how hard she tries. Lisa needs someone she can be happy for, and Allison needs someone who can be happy for her.

"I think I'm breaking up with you," Lisa chokes out, her voice almost in a whisper.

Allison swallows, incredulous. "What?"

"I'm breaking up with you," Lisa repeats, the words tasting bitter and sour and making her feel even worse than when she said them the first time. She should feel victorious; Lisa had stolen Allison's heart, had her eating out of her hands, and now she has the pleasure of crushing her like she has always assumed that she wanted. No. Lisa doesn't feel victorious, doesn't feel like she "won." It's a lose-lose situation and they are both victims. Lisa's head is heavy and she feels like she can hardly breathe. It hurts just as much, if not more, than when she had been in Allison's shoes not too long ago.

"I d-don't understand," Allison stutters, voice breaking as she tries to keep herself from falling apart. "I th-thought things were g-going so well between us?"

"I thought so too," Lisa says in a hushed tone, gaze pointed at the ground, "but now I realize I was deceiving myself into thinking we could ever have a healthy relationship." Lisa turns around, her eyes slowly rising to meet Allison's. "I wanted that for us. So much. But you deserve to have a relationship that isn't a one-sided competition, Allison, and I can't give that to you."

Allison just stands there, frozen in horror, mouth parted in shock, eyes darting between Lisa and the floor. Her bottom lip quivers but she remains wordless, fingers trembling as tears drip from her eyes and nostrils like tiny waterfalls.

And then Lisa runs, running nowhere, running everywhere, running anywhere but here in this sad place with this sad girl and this whole messed up situation that should never have arisen in the first place.


	6. Strapless Pink Dress

Spring break is hardly a break at all; it's a camera flash that doesn't give Lisa enough time to wind down from and process the previous semester, nor enough time to mentally prepare herself for the next. It's a week that desperately tries to cram spending time with everyone into a neatly wrapped package that in reality is a haphazard mess. Just as soon as Lisa steps foot on that teal carpet of home, she's back on an airplane with a screenshot of her schedule designated as her lock screen.

Not even a minute after landing and her phone vibrates furiously with several text messages. Lisa thumbs through each speech bubble, one after the other, eyes glazed yet glued to the screen as she maneuvers her way through the airport.

 _Hey is this still Lisa's number_

 _It's Janey_

 _U go to rockheights right_

 _I'm in town rn visiting some relatives_

 _But there's this nightclub by ur campus and I figured that's way more fun than listening to my annoying cousins_

 _What do u say? U could use some excitement in ur life LOL_

Lisa shoves her phone into her purse, lingering by baggage claim as luggage begins to roll out on conveyor belts one after the other. She spots her duffel bag out of the corner of her eye and hauls it to her side. Although she doesn't have any 8 ams this semester, her conscience is screaming at her that going clubbing the night before the semester starts isn't practical whatsoever.

Still… Janey _contacted_ her. Janey, _of all people!_ Someone who Lisa thought would cast her away the instant high school became a distant dream, and someone who Lisa thought she would cast away as well. Someone who's only there when things are convenient and breezy but drops out the instant shit hits the fan.

Regardless of these sentiments, Lisa replies with _What time should we meet up?_

Janey's only talking to Lisa because she needs an escape. If there had been a more spontaneous and more outgoing alternative, Janey would have taken it in a heartbeat.

But that's okay. Tonight, they can use each other as an ends to their means. If only Lisa could fully comprehend what her own means are.

* * *

A short, crimson dress outlines Janey's body as her back presses its weight against the brick walls of the nightclub, High Fever. There's a fire in her eyes that matches the dress she dons, and Lisa watches Janey's look of anticipation as they inch closer and closer to the entrance. Either Janey has been planning this from the beginning, or she bought that dress on a whim.

Lisa, on the other hand, had gravitated to a white tank top and dark blue skinny jeans she had fished out of her closet. She had thrown on a smidge of bright pink lipstick and a pair of triangular earrings, just to spice herself up a bit. Lisa glances around at everyone else waiting in line and wants to sink into herself. She shouldn't be here. Why is she even here? She doesn't belong in a place like this.

"Chill out, Lisa," Janey says out of nowhere. Lisa's attention snaps toward her. Janey rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "Don't be such a drag. You'll have fun if you let it happen."

Lisa sighs, and they approach the entrance. The muffled sounds of EDM reverberating against the stone walls spike in volume each time the door swings open as more people are let in. Janey springs outward and slides her way to the front, hastily bumping into Lisa without a second thought. She glimpses over her shoulders, a look of impatience filling her eyes as she gestures with her hands.

"What are you waiting for?" Janey asks, flailing her arms. "Let's go!"

Janey vanishes within minutes of their arrival, weaving herself into a sea of dancing people, people who are decked out in neon and augmented by blacklight. Lisa makes her way to the corners of the crowd and attempts to find a rhythm, but can't. Everything is too loud, too bright. Maybe later she'll try again, but not now. A small lounge area towards the back beckons to her, and Lisa makes a beeline for it. She situates herself on a green couch and observes the crowd, wondering where Janey has tangled herself in all that mess.

Someone slides in the seat next to her from behind, causing Lisa to jolt as an arm gets thrown over her shoulders. Lisa scoots away, jaw dropped and eyes widened in disbelief at the very notion that someone would invade her personal space so easily. She whips her head around, face stricken with fury and eyes ablaze as she inspects her perpetrator more closely. Her expression suddenly contorts as she meets the sly gaze of Jessica Lovejoy. Lisa blinks, rubbing her eyes to ensure that her own vision isn't deceiving her.

Yep. It's the she-devil incarnate herself, except her eternal flames of Hell have been substituted with a strapless pink dress that is hugged by black lace and a black bow beneath her sternum. Her goat horns have been replaced with that same pink headband with that same pink bow, as if it's a vivid, neon sign flashing at Lisa that Jessica is and always will be that person Lisa remembers her for.

Jessica twiddles her fingers and lolls her head to the side. "Heeeeey _you,_ " she purrs. "I remember you. _Lisa,_ right? You remember me? Your brother and I used to date waaaay back."

Lisa narrows her eyes. "Yes, I remember you, _Jessica Lovejoy_ ," she says, lips pursing together. "You framed Bart for stealing the church collection money and didn't care when the entire town slandered his name."

Jessica giggles and dismisses Lisa with a wave of her hand. "Oh, _that?_ " she says. "It's been ages, Lisa. That's all ancient history by now. I'm not that meddlesome little girl anymore." Jessica slides closer to Lisa and rolls her head back against the couch, her mouth spread into a lopsided grin. "You don't seem like you're having much fun here," she points out.

Lisa shrugs, not breaking eye contact. "Well, the person I was with took off without me," she says warily. "I'm just waiting for the opportune moment to integrate myself into the crowd." Lisa glances over her shoulder and then turns back to Jessica. "I'm sure I'll muster up the energy soon enough."

Jessica clutches a hand to her heart and sighs. "You poor thing." She hops onto her feet and cocks her head in the direction of the masses. "Come on. Get up. I'll be your dance partner. You shouldn't have to _suffer_ while everyone else is having a blast." Lisa hardly budges, inciting Jessica to pout while placing a hand on her hip. "Oh _please._ I'm not going to bite you."

Reluctantly, Lisa emerges from her seat, and Jessica's face lights up like fireworks against a blackened sky. Jessica squeals in delight and snatches Lisa's wrist. Lisa swallows a gulp as she allows this witch, this siren, this harpy, to drag her across the room and in between swaying bodies.

Lisa bounces up and down and rocks from side to side, attempting to appear as if she has some semblance of coordination. She watches as Jessica swings her hips with carefree ease and raises her arms in sync with the chest-pumping bass, exuding confidence and grace with every beat. Jessica winks and curls her index finger at Lisa, enticing her to come closer. Lisa hesitates, but Jessica doesn't as she grasps onto Lisa's hands and pulls her in so that they are only a foot or so apart.

Their fingers lock together as Jessica pushes and pulls Lisa to the music, swaying Lisa's arms around and about as Lisa tries to find her own rhythm. That ever-present smile on Jessica's face radiates continuously as they dance together, and Lisa soon becomes mesmerized by Jessica's movements and beauty. Her brain hisses to not let herself get entrapped like her brother did many years ago, an incessant reminder to maintain her guard, to not get carried away, but soon all rationality has left the window of her mind as desire seizes control.

An hour or two fades in time as Lisa and Jessica take on the dance floor. All of a sudden their bodies are millimeters apart as Jessica's hands slide onto Lisa's hips, helping her swing to the beat of the music. Their eyes fixate on one another; everyone else soon blends together in an indistinguishable neon blur. Jessica smirks and presses her forehead against the side of Lisa's head, her lips brushing against Lisa's ear as she says, "You're _really_ cute, you know."

Lisa freezes in place, speechless as her heart stammers and a rush of blood flurries to her cheeks. Jessica moves her head so that the tips of their noses are touching, causing anxiety and exhilaration to shoot through every fiber of Lisa's being. Lisa can hear the beating of her own chest, even over this crowd, even over this bass.

Jessica chuckles. "You nervous?" she asks. When Lisa doesn't give her a definitive answer, she smashes her lips against Lisa's, fingers digging into Lisa's hips as her tongue sneaks its way in between Lisa's teeth. Lisa's head is spinning and spinning as she reciprocates the kiss ardently, but Jessica pulls away just enough to leave Lisa wanting more.

And Lisa wants more.

"I told you I don't bite," Jessica says, eyes boring into Lisa as her lips twitch with satisfaction. Her hands haven't released their grip on Lisa's waist, and Lisa wishes that they never will. Jessica sneaks in another quick kiss, this time gently biting the bottom of Lisa's lip as they break apart. Jessica flashes a smug little grin. "Well, maybe a little."

Lisa's stomach flutters and her mouth parts into a curious smile before snapping back to reality. She reaches in her back pocket for her phone and curses at herself when she looks at the time. She glances at Jessica and scratches the back of her neck, a sheepish smile forming on her face.

"I should get going," Lisa says. "I have class tomorrow."

Jessica feigns a gasp and stares at Lisa with narrowed eyes. She places a hand to her hip and curls her lips into a smug grin. "Staying up past curfew?" Jessica asks in a bemused tone. "I'm impressed. I didn't know you could be such a rebel." She cocks her head in the direction of the nearest exit. "Need a lift back to your place?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Lisa tells her. "I have a prior mode of transportation."

Jessica shrugs. "Suit yourself," she says. She turns her back to Lisa and glances over her shoulder so that their eyes meet once more. "It's been fun, Lisa."

"Likewise."

Jessica breaks eye contact and sashays towards the exit, Lisa watching the distance between them widen with every step. She then shakes her head to snap herself out of it. Now is not the time to fixate herself on superficial infatuation. She diverts her attention to her phone, which has a few notifications from Janey from over an hour ago. Lisa unlocks her phone and groans as she processes the messages glowing in front of her face.

 _Hey I already left the club_

 _Was gonna tell u in person but couldn't find u_

 _Anyways hope u actually danced or got shitfaced becuz if u paid $20 to sit around all night that's just sad_

Lisa glances up from her phone, sighing and clenching her first. She should have anticipated that something like this would happen. Her heart thumps, eyes drifting towards the exit, mind lingering at Jessica's offer. Lisa swallows a humid gulp of air and then bolts for the door. She puffs out short, labored breaths and stops in her tracks as the crisp air enters her circulation. Lisa exhales a sigh of relief as she catches Jessica right as she is throwing her legs over her motorcycle and sliding on her helmet.

Jessica tilts her chin up in curiosity as Lisa catches her breath. "Change your mind?" she asks.

"Change of plans," Lisa says, sighing. "If it's not too much trouble to take me to the dorms."

"Your friend is very fickle," Jessica remarks. She quirks an eyebrow and hums. "Rockheights right?" Lisa nods. "Hop on." Lisa climbs behind Jessica and grasps around for something to hold onto. Jessica giggles as she turns on the engine. "Sorry love," Jessica says, "no seatbelts on this ride. You'll have to hold onto _me_ if you don't wanna fall off."

Lisa's stomach turns inside out and her cheeks flush with heat. "Uh, okay!" is all she manages to squeak out. She wraps her arms around Jessica's waist and squeezes her firmly as the motorcycle rolls out of the parking lot and onto the road. The cold, early morning wind ripples through her hair as they speed through the abandoned streets, which remain silent except for the roar of the engine. Lisa locks onto Jessica in a tight embrace, face pressing against her back.

The motorcycle decelerates in front of the dorms. Lisa slowly releases her grip and hobbles off the seat. Jessica removes her helmet and swishes her long, dark hair right before her eyes meet Lisa's gaze.

"Thanks for the ride," Lisa says, smiling awkwardly.

Jessica smiles back. "My pleasure," she says. She digs into her purse and fetches an old receipt and a ballpoint pen. Jessica scribbles on the back of the receipt and then extends her arm out, holding it in front of Lisa. "It's my number," she says. "Take it." Lisa does. Jessica puts her helmet back on and turns on her motorcycle. "Hit me up sometime," Jessica tells her over the engine, and then she rides away, disappearing as soon as she moves beyond the boundaries of Lisa's periphery.

Lisa glances at the receipt crumpled within her hand. There's something about the femme fatale that draws Lisa towards Jessica, just like those bad boys of elementary school, just like those rebels of live action movies. Jessica Lovejoy may not be the same as she was those many years ago, but there's something in Lisa's gut that strikes a wrong chord, something that isn't quite right. Jessica's a heartbreaker; of that, Lisa is certain. To fall for Jessica would be to fall into a trap, one where Lisa would be another checkmark on Jessica's literal and figurative to-do list.

Lisa knows better than that. She does, and yet she can't bring herself to throw away her number. Maybe, they could spend some time together. For a little while. Nothing serious, so nobody gets hurt. Right? Lisa bites her lip and heads inside, still clutching that little piece of paper.

Bart doesn't have to know about this.

* * *

Three weeks into the new semester and Lisa has finally caved into meeting up with Jessica after a couple of weeks of texting back and forth.

"Ditching class to grab a coffee with me?" Jessica says in an amused tone as she stares at Lisa from across their table. She swirls her straw around before taking a sip of the iced coffee in front of her. "I'm impressed, Lisa. You're badder than I gave you credit for."

Lisa shrugs at Jessica's comment and takes a long sip from her steel pink mug. Warm coffee hits the back of her throat, not scorching, but just right. Lisa props her elbow onto the table and rests her cheek against her fist. "I think you're giving me too much credit," she says. "It's just a GE, and the professor reads off her powerpoints, which are provided online. I'm not missing much."

"Still," Jessica says, now leaning forward with both her elbows resting against the table and her cheeks cupped between each of her hands. "You were never the type to ditch class, even if it _was_ pointless. Or stupid." She lets her arms droop to the edges of the table and slides back in her chair. "You have any classes tomorrow?"

"Yeah, just one. There's this extra credit lab for my—"

"Skip it," Jessica tells her. It's not a request; it's a demand. "Come with me to mall tomorrow. I'll drive us. Besides, you're so smart and you get such good grades. I doubt you need those extra points."

"Uhhh..." Lisa hesitates and rubs her sweaty palms against her pants. Ditching class once is one thing, but ditching twice? Part of the reason she receives the grades she has is because she overachieves in every class she's in, which means completing extra credit even when she doesn't need to. If she doesn't secure that surefire A, how can she possibly expect to attend Harvard or Yale or any of the other Ivy League Universities? Lisa swallows. "You see, I don't really feel comfortable—"

"Come _on,_ Lisa," Jessica pleads, sulking her eyes and pouting. She bats her eyelashes. "It'll be loads of fun. Plus it's _lame_ having class on Friday anyways."

Lisa blows out a puff of air through her tightened lips. "Oh, all right."

Jessica squeals in delight and springs up from her chair. She snatches Lisa by the hand and yanks her into a hug.

* * *

The two of them try on dresses that they pick out for each other, and spend hours swapping outfits. They critique the dresses that look good on the rack but do not flatter the person who dons them, while complimenting the ones that accentuate the other's figure. Lisa emerges from the fitting room wearing a maroon, lace dress with sleeves that reach just beyond her elbow. Jessica smiles as Lisa strikes a modest hand to her hip.

"Classy but casual," Jessica says. She stands up from her seat and walks towards Lisa, placing her hands on her shoulders. "You look stunning."

Lisa blushes and turns her face away. "Thanks."

"You gonna buy it?" Jessica asks her. "You totally should."

Lisa shakes her head. "Money's a bit tight right now," she admits, "but it was fun trying it on."

"I bet I could steal it for you," Jessica whispers, and the look on her face and nonchalance in her tone makes Lisa think that she's being completely serious. When all Lisa can do is just stare with her mouth in a dumb gape and her eyes like bugs, Jessica sighs and rolls her eyes. "Oh, lighten up. I was just _kidding_ … sorta."

Lisa bites her lip. "I will have to decline your offer."

"Boo," Jessica says, crossing her arms.

Lisa heads back into the changing stall. Jessica cocks her head to the side and hums as she sits back down, waiting for Lisa to come out so they can move on to the next store.

* * *

Late nights out embracing Jessica as they cruise through empty streets and dirt roads are what keep Lisa distracted from the heartache of her last relationship these past few weeks, what holds her fragile bundle of emotions from bursting at the seams. She loves the wind shaking up her hair and the intimacy of desperately clinging to Jessica, clinging as if Jessica is her emotional lifeline, as if Jessica is the answer to every problem Lisa is avoiding. Jessica is not, but Lisa can pretend.

They will drive and drive for hours, going nowhere in particular only to end up at a fast food place at three in the morning, at some sketchy corner of a busy avenue. They will sit outside on the wobbly benches, Lisa eating her salad and fruit cup while Jessica tears through her burger. Lisa will then spill her secrets, because Jessica has this way of making her _want_ to tell her everything, as if Jessica knowing these things will make Jessica want her somehow.

But Jessica maintains her distance, always holding some sort of aloofness despite her seemingly enthusiastic attitude and willingness to consistently hang out with her. Lisa wonders to herself if there are others, other girls Jessica is enticing, other girls eating out of Jessica's hands, just like her. There has to be. Lisa and Jessica have never discussed exclusivity, never discussed what _this_ —whatever it is—really means to either of them.

And maybe it's better this way. That way Lisa doesn't get too attached, doesn't get heartbroken, doesn't fall into another trap she has seen coming from miles away. But Lisa can feel herself falling in spite of herself, in spite of knowing Jessica probably doesn't feel as strongly as she does.

Lisa just pretends that this all okay, that this isn't affecting her like it really is. She just shuts her eyes and shuts her mind away and clings to Jessica, clinging and clinging as that motorcycle vibrates from underneath her seat, as that late night breeze caresses her hair, as that red Fruit Loop scent of Jessica's shampoo enters her lungs and catches her breath. And Lisa just shuts her eyes, and she pretends.

* * *

This night, a Saturday night, Jessica veers off and parks her motorcycle by the curb of an abandoned building. Lisa swallows and scans her surroundings with apprehensive eyes. Even during those other times at those late night fast food runs, they had stayed within the safety civilization, despite human activity being minimal and sketchy at best. But out here, there is nothing but Lisa and Jessica, nothing but this lone structure and this forestry and these rolling hills that are only lit up by faint traces of starlight and a crescent moon.

"Come on," Jessica says, gesturing at Lisa with a flick of her head. She hops off her bike and goes beside a narrow opening of a chain link fence. A rustic sign with the words NO TRESPASSING in glaring red letters is staked just a few feet away. "There's a cool spot up here I wanna show you," Jessica explains, ducking through the slit in the fence and ploughing ahead until she is but a faraway shadow amongst the trees.

Lisa trudges behind as she navigates carefully through the fence and follows a dirt path uphill. She takes in heavy breaths in between stops and glimpses up, admiring the silhouette of Jessica as she sits atop a large rock, her long black hair undulating with the gentle wind. Lisa inhales and forces herself to hike the rest of the way without stopping. Jessica turns to glance at Lisa, eyes soft and lips in a smile, and Lisa plops right next to her, wheezing.

"Someone needs to exercise more," Jessica points out, giggling. "Didn't you almost fail gym class or something?"

Lisa glares at Jessica with tired eyes. "Didn't you blow up a classroom or something?"

Jessica laughs and jabs Lisa with her elbow. "No. It was a pipe bomb. I didn't have _that_ kind of firepower back then."

Lisa raises a brow. "But you do now…?"

Jessica just giggles and pulls Lisa into her arms, saying nothing as she plants her chin on Lisa's shoulder and nuzzles her neck. "Isn't it worth losing your breath for a sight like this?" Jessica asks in a lulled voice. "This is one of my favorite spots around here."

Up here they can see everything. A gentle creek, the trees, the rocks, with no sounds except the bugs chirping and the stream running, with no cars driving by with their roaring engines, with no rowdy teens blasting out their mainstream pop songs or their obnoxious laughter filling the silence like helium in a balloon.

"It's beautiful," is all Lisa can say.

"Yep. Beats doing boring school shit, doesn't it?" Jessica says.

"Eh, sometimes."

Jessica snorts. "You're such a goody-goody."

Lisa laughs, and they sit together and talk like this for hours. It isn't until the sun starts to rise and the birds start to squawk when they decide to head back and collapse face first onto Lisa's bed.

* * *

Three weeks.

It's been three weeks since Jessica's last response to Lisa's last text, _Wanna meet up later tonight?_ They went from texting every hour of every day to nothing in the past twenty-one days. At first she had thought Jessica may have lost her phone, but there was always social media to fall back on, and Jessica hadn't responded to her messages on there either.

The answer is simple; Jessica stopped. Lisa doesn't even know what she did to make Jessica blow her off like this, but she knows that it is likely not anything she had done or lack thereof. The thrill of a new relationship has died, and Jessica has cut all ties to it.

Lisa should have seen this coming.

Scratch that. She _had_ seen this coming, but decided to pursue Jessica anyways. No matter how good things had been unfolding between them, it was always going crumble, eventually to slip past them like sand between fingers. What they had was fresh and invigorating, but as the novelty wears off, there is no trace of substance left. And Lisa _knew_ that, but it still hurts all the same.

"Karma," Bart tells her over Skype, and Lisa is thinking, _feeling,_ that exact same thing. "You know. For blindsiding Allison." Bart shakes his head. "Shouldn't have fallen for that Milk Dud, Lise. For a smart girl, you make some pretty dumb decisions."

Lisa rolls her eyes, but a tiny grin creeps onto her face. "Yeah well, for a guy who everyone thinks is dumb, you're actually pretty smart."

Bart smiles, and it's a genuine smile, with his eyes lighting up so brightly that Lisa can feel his warmth in her soul even though they are miles and miles apart, and that is all she needs to get through today, to get through tomorrow—to get through anything, really.

* * *

Another week without any word from Jessica. Lisa lies on her stomach, reading a book and swinging her feet up in the air when her phone suddenly buzzes with a notification. She absentmindedly reaches for it, her eyes growing wide and her stomach doing flips as she takes a peek at the sender.

 _Sorry love, but "us" just isn't working anymore. I've got other places to go, other people to see. Need to figure some shit out. It's been a hell of a ride, though. Hope you find what you're really looking for, because we both know it isn't me. No hard feelings, right?_

 _xoxo Jessica_

Lisa sighs as she rolls onto her back, letting the phone slide out of her grip, and she hopes that Jessica also finds what she is looking for, whatever that may be in this singular life, in this vast world, with all of its infinite possibilities and such a finite amount of time.

 _Yeah_ , Lisa finally brings herself to type, _no hard feelings,_ and she presses send.


	7. White Muscle Tank

The first time Lisa gets back into the dating scene after a long break, it's at Sherri and Terri's twenty-third birthday party.

A few years have passed, and those years gave Lisa time to reflect and learn and heal from the scars of her past relationships, to grow as an individual into someone worthy of receiving love but more importantly, into someone capable of giving it. And she accepts that there may not be "someone" out there for her, but that's okay— _more_ than okay. She can withdraw peace and happiness from inside the core of her very being, and that's all she really needs to be content, to be alive.

The six of them sit in a ring of chairs around a circular, wooden table. Sherri and Terri sit so close together that they are practically sharing the same seat. An enormous strawberry cheesecake with forty-six individually lit candles nearly hides their wide-eyed, shit-eating grins. The walls of Shotkickers are decorated with vintage signs and posters, and a loud hoot rips through the room as the mechanical bull bucks its male rider.

Lisa is sandwiched between Alex and Janey, with the former dividing Lisa from Terri and the latter acting as a human barrier between Lisa and her ex, Allison, who simply offers Lisa a pure, kind smile. Lisa and Allison have patched some things up since their breakup—it has been years since then—but some things cannot be salvaged. There will always be a wall between them; there will always be a gaping hole that time cannot close completely. Lisa returns the smile, heart skipping just a little, because Allison really is too good for this world.

"Since our group baby is now officially twenty-one," Sherri says, winking at Allison, "I expect all you girls to enjoy yourselves tonight and go crazy!"

Terri nods with enthusiasm. "Yeah!" she exclaims. "That means you're _all_ gonna get hammered, or else you're buying a round of drinks for _everyone_ at this table. Those were the rules that were printed on your invitations."

"Mhmm," Sherri says. "Rules are rules."

"You hear that Lisa?" Janey says rather loudly, and Lisa snickers and gently prods at Janey with her foot.

"Hell yeah!" Alex says. "Okay okay, so someone _definitely_ has to take shots with me until one of us blacks out. _Hello_ girls, who's down?"

"I'm not gonna get _too_ wild," Allison admits with a timid smile.

A hearty laugh erupts from Lisa's throat.

It's funny. She always thought that she was more than this, more than high school, more than _Springfield_ and everyone in it, that college would be her clean slate, her ticket to a greater world. Some people are able to be that girl Lisa always thought she would be, the one to drop off the face of her hometown, never to be heard from again, onto better things and bigger cities. But as it turns out, her roots are deeper than she could have ever imagined, and these people she thought she'd never remain friends with are actually the people who she ends up drifting back to time and time again, like the tides that eventually reach the shores of land no matter how far they recede.

Sherri and Terri blow out their candles, and everyone at the table gives them a round of applause.

"And remember the other rule?" Terri says. She looks at her twin, and they both giggle.

"All of you have to buy both of us a drink," Sherri continues, "as our birthday gift."

Alex buys each of the twins a shot of vodka (and buys one for herself too so she can take a shot with them). Allison comes prepared with a single bottle of white wine and two novelty wine glasses that say ANGEL and DEVIL respectively. (Always ready, always one step ahead). Janey reveals a six-pack of Duff she's been hiding under the table for everyone to share, and Lisa treats both Sherri and Terri to their choice of mixed drink at the bar.

They spend an hour or so at their table, dining on cake and drinking together and sharing what each of them has been up to this past year. Lisa drinks just enough to loosen up, and she watches how much and exactly what she's sending to her liver's cytochrome p450 system.

They start to trickle out one by one. Alex and Janey find a couple of boys to buy them shots and begin playing some sort of drinking game. Sherri and Terri get in line for the mechanical bull, and Allison stands on the sidelines to cheer them on. Lisa finds herself drifting towards the cusp of the dance floor, attempting to coalesce with the rows of bodies that are line dancing in perfect synchronization.

Some dude in a denim jacket and denim pants waltzes over to Lisa. He has dark hair and dark eyes and this dark aura that surrounds him. Eight year-old Lisa would have been swooning over his type, but now, all Lisa feels is indifference. He bumps his shoulders against hers, and Lisa takes a step back.

"Hey," he says, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

Lisa's eyes dart around the room, purposefully eluding his gaze. "Uh… hi."

"Name's Reese."

Lisa nods and wears a shaky smile. "Ah. Like the peanut butter cups."

He doesn't comment on that. Reese takes a step forward, and Lisa instinctively takes another step back. "I can teach you how to line dance," he says, hitching up his pants, "if you tell me your name, pretty lady."

When Lisa doesn't give him an immediate answer, Reese snatches Lisa by her wrist and yanks her towards him. "Come on," he says, tone innocent, "I promise we'll have a fun time."

Lisa gasps and struggles out of his grip, and she uses her free hand to attempt to strike him in the jaw. Her swing misses and instead grazes his collarbone, causing Reese to bear his teeth and shoot Lisa a nasty scowl.

"You trying to piss me off?" he hisses, voice quaking with rage as the vein on his forehead pulses.

Someone from behind—a woman in a white muscle tank and black denim jeans and a brown pixie cut—rushes over and wedges herself in between the two of them.

"Reese, don't act like such a victim," she says. "You totally deserved it."

"I was just being—"

"An _asshole_ who was hitting on a lady who is _clearly_ uninterested," the woman finishes. Reese eases the tension in his shoulders and folds his arms across his chest in a defiant stance. "You should apologize and leave," she tells him, and to Lisa's surprise, he begins to walk away.

"Sorry," Reese halfheartedly mutters to Lisa, avoiding eye contact as he brushes past her.

A sigh of relief blows out from Lisa's cheeks. "Thanks for saving me," she says, grateful.

"No problem," the woman says as she turns around to meet Lisa's face. She crosses her arms and smiles, eyes gaping. "Well, look who it is! You're Bart's sister, huh?"

"Uh, yeah!" Lisa says. "Lisa." She squints, focusing on the woman's facial features, the warmth in her smile, the laid back look in her eyes, and an _aha!_ moment springs forth the instant Lisa identifies her. "Oh! Laura Powers!" Her muscles ease into a more natural position. "I almost didn't recognize you. Nice haircut, by the way. What have you been up to?"

"Thanks." Laura gives a light chuckle and shrugs her shoulders. "Oh you know," she says, "school. Work. Travel. Been to China and Thailand and Canada. Gotta see the sites before I either die young or become too old and decrepit to do anything fun."

"That sounds incredible," Lisa says, eyes wide. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and feels herself gravitating forward. "What's next on your list?"

"Japan," Laura tells her, her gaze holding steady as she shifts the weight on her stance and lets her arms plop to her sides. "I won't be going there for another few years. I need to save up loads of cash and vacation time so I can spend a few weeks there. Really wanna immerse myself in the culture, and not just the touristy stuff, although I definitely plan on doing that too."

Lisa beams and clasps her hands together. "Oh, that sounds so wonderful! I'd love to go back to Japan."

Laura quirks an eyebrow. "No kiddin'? You've been?"

Lisa scratches the back of her head and exhales a short puff of air. "Well, yeah," she says slowly, "but we ate at Americatown, and we hardly got to experience anything relating to Japanese culture and history."

Laura shakes her head. "Sheesh. That's lame. Why don't you come with me on my trip? Get that experience you've always wanted."

Lisa blinks. She narrows her eyes, scanning Laura's expression and words for traces of sarcasm, but it's all sincere. And then Lisa can feel the heat surging through her chest, can feel the pink flashing to her cheeks, and as she stares at Laura, she begins to understand how Bart had been so captivated by her all those years ago. Laura has this way of pulling you in without even trying, and she gives the impression of a bad girl without actually being one. She is kind and she is honest, but she also doesn't take shit from anyone and knows how to stand her ground.

"You really want me to come with you?" Lisa asks in disbelief.

"Yeah," Laura says in a warm voice. "Obviously, you'd have to pay for yourself. But the trip won't happen for another few years, so you've got some time. In the meantime…" Laura moseys her way near the dance floor and gestures her hand in the direction of the crowd. "I can give you a couple of tips on how to line dance. If you're up for it."

The corners of Lisa's mouth tug into a small grin. "That would be great."

Laura cracks into a wide smile. "Okay, so the main thing is that you wanna situate yourself in the middle," she tells Lisa. "That way you can copy the people in front of you no matter which direction you're facing."

Lisa nods, and she takes a step forward.

"The second tip," Laura continues, "is actually putting yourself out there." She cocks her head and extends her arm out to Lisa, offering her hand. Lisa's eyes flicker back and forth from Laura's face to Laura's hand, wordless, and Laura simply releases a good-natured laugh. "Well? Are we doing this?"

Lisa doesn't know if this will lead anywhere, if this will become something real, if this will be yet another relationship destined to fail or one that endures a lifetime. Life is a series of one-way tickets that you can't turn back once you have chosen a path, and as the path continues, it will continue to fork into irreversible choices, choices that will have a lasting impact on all future paths and all future options, forever eliminating the other paths and the other lives that could have been lived and the other versions of yourself that could have existed.

She understands this could all be one night, one week, one month, and that she could turn up empty and heartbroken as she has in the past. But life, as it happens, is too short to be afraid of making mistakes.

And let's face it. She has made plenty of mistakes already.

Lisa reaches for Laura's hand, and she lets her take control.

 _Fin._


End file.
